Birdy. I grunted like a man again. Why did he have to say the word bird? Now the word was forever tainted with memories of Remy. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Ugh.

There was no way I could stomach food. I was already full. Guilt was an appetite suppressant. I didn’t regret what I did, but I felt damn bad about it. To fool and manipulate someone? But you did it to get out because you were a prisoner. Was I really? How come it didn’t seem so bad all those months? Why was I so confused about it all? A prisoner should know what a prison feels like!

I breathed deep, basking in the heat of the sun throwing up its rays of heat down on me in the cool wind. I looked around, noticing what I couldn’t in the dark last night. We were smack dab in the middle of the bush. The condensed trees, aged and full, swayed in the breeze around the cabin while the calls of birds overhead sang their morning tunes. Or maybe they were bitching at each other. Whatever they were doing, it was pleasant.

I stared up at the blue sky. This was peace. This was true silence. Not lonely silence, but real world kind of silence. No cars in the distance or people. God, being in that clubhouse had its ups, but always being around people was exhausting. My anger hated this quiet because rational me was able to fight it off. It washed away within minutes and I was feeling like a little wench for snapping at him like that.

He was so infuriating, though! So what if I didn’t want to eat? I’d lost weight, but not the amount he was going on about. A stray cat? Pahlease! I still had some cushion for the pushin’.

I peered down my night gown.

Well… they weren’t as cushiony as before, but whatever, they were still good. Tits are tits, right?

Interrupting my bodily inspection was a car making its way down the path and toward the cabin. I tensed. Had they found us already? Were these the wheels of death?

A red Prius appeared. Certainly not the wheels of death I’d have imagined. Looking at the people through their windshield, I’d say they certainly weren’t murderer material either.

When they found a place to park, two women stepped out. One was an old, fragile looking thing with white hair up in a bun wearing classical pearls and a floral dress you’d find in granny central. The other… Shit. The other was certainly not granny material at all.

It was Christy.

Twenty

Granny looking lady was actually Gretel Wallace, the owner of the cabin – and the maker of the pancake mix as she so fervently talked on about. With her was her granddaughter, Christy. The girl had been perfection in my eyes when I’d first met her at Lucinda’s house all those months ago holding hands with Jaxon and staring at him like he was her knight in shining armour.

I was scowling at her. I didn’t want to scowl either, especially when she smiled widely at me when she greeted me at the steps. I just scowled and then muttered about Jaxon being inside. They trudged up the steps and into the cabin. I could hear their conversation. Jaxon’s anger had long passed and he was laughing.

Laughing!

Why couldn’t I have made him laugh?!

I joined them eventually and Jaxon was cooking up some more pancakes and I suddenly wished he’d put a shirt on. He offered Christy my plate and I watched her eat my pancakes. I fought internally – war of the Titans style – not to snatch the plate away from her and scream, “MINE!”

Instead, I watched her.

And scowled.

Gretel was a nice woman, but she was stern with Christy. Whenever Christy talked about wanting to do things like buy a new car because her current one was shit, she’d snap and say, “Christy, you finish your placement at the hospital first before you run off spending money on useless junk. Grow up, now.” I watched how deflated Christy was by her grand-mother’s words and felt a pang in my chest. The nicest girl in the world didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

By mid-morning, Gretel invited us into the touristy town for some shopping and sight-seeing. There were vineyards with wine tastings and lakes with small water falls. The nature was beautiful, making the town a lovely camping spot where you could fish and enjoy the water.

Before we left, I changed back into last night’s jeans and top. I had no make-up to put on. But going natural these days is hot, right? The gargoyle look was nothing to be self-conscious about… Sigh.

Jaxon had changed into a white tight tee and camouflage shorts, looking every bit manly and rough: stubble cheeks, unruly hair and pressed lips. I awkwardly followed them out where he handed me the bike helmet, leaving me to buckle it on my own.

We tailed the red Prius all the way into the centre of town where the main streets were. I didn’t feel like I was in my body to experience the hours that passed by. Gretel thought it was impertinent to show us a historical mill where she revelled about the businessman who’d owned it almost a century ago. I had to pinch myself to stay awake as she droned on about the historical machinery used and how dangerous some of the jobs were for workers.

Ten million yawns later and we had lunch at a seafood restaurant with a built-in aquarium that bordered the walls of the entire place. I enjoyed this bit, watching the fish swimming around. The illusion of freedom right here… They swam and swam, but did they ever know they were trapped by glass walls? Or were they aware and content in their ignorance, allowing the control placed in someone else’s hands? They’re fucking fish, Sara.

Yes, they were fucking fish but they represented something to me. I’d been trapped too, and maybe allowing Remy to have the control had been a way for me to accept it and make something good out of something I would have otherwise been broken apart by.

In the line-up on our way inside, I caught Christy pushing into Jaxon’s side. She was murmuring something in his ear, but I couldn’t hear amidst Gretel’s yammering at my own side about some kind of historical prison with convict art or some bullshit like that.

What the hell was she talking to him about? He talked back to her, too. Oh, what it would be like to be a fly on their wall!

I hated him for ignoring me. I hated her for touching him the way she was. I hated Gretel for being nice and telling me about shit I didn’t care about. I hated everyone here for just being here!

I wanted to go home. And home was him.

Why was he acting this way?

*****

After an insufferable day, we parted ways with Granny Gretel and Christy. Christy politely said good bye to me and then she hugged Jaxon tightly, whispering some more in his ear before she smiled angelically up at him. He nodded in return and watched her climb into the car.